Mark didn't make it far.
Three blocks from the alley, his legs locked.
Not collapsing—stopping. Like a machine that had been running past redline and finally lost permission to move. He stumbled, caught a rusted handrail, then slid down until his back hit the wall.
Breathing hurt.
Not sharp.
Not stabbing.
Deep.
As if something inside his chest was compressing inward.
[HOST STATUS: UNSTABLE]
[MODULE ACTIVITY: ABNORMAL]
Mark let out a quiet laugh. Hoarse. Dry.
"Abnormal," he muttered. "That's generous."
The edges of his vision dimmed. City noise—traffic, voices, distant sirens—collapsed into a low, distorted hum. He pressed a trembling hand to his chest.
The heat was still there.
Not spreading.
Condensing.
[EVALUATION PHASE INITIATED]
The words appeared without warning.
Mark froze.
"What?"
No countdown.
No explanation.
Just pressure behind his eyes, sudden and invasive, like something had snapped into focus.
Sensations surfaced—not images, but memory fragments.
The crunch of cartilage under his elbow.
The leverage that snapped a wrist.
The timing error that almost got him killed.
Not replayed.
Dissected.
[COMBAT INPUT ANALYSIS…]
[EFFICIENCY RATING: SUBOPTIMAL]
Mark clenched his teeth.
"Then fix it."
No response.
Instead—
[LIMITATION IDENTIFIED: HOST PHYSICAL OUTPUT]
[ADAPTIVE PRIORITY SHIFTED]
Pressure detonated in his chest.
Mark gasped, fingers clawing at concrete. His muscles tensed, released, then tensed again—out of rhythm. Like his body was being tuned by hands that didn't care if the strings snapped.
[ADAPTATION METHOD: TECHNIQUE OPTIMIZATION]
[STATUS: PARTIAL — RISK ACCEPTED]
Risk accepted.
"Hey—" Mark hissed. "You don't get to decide that."
The system ignored him.
Information bled into his awareness—not commands. Not skills.
Corrections.
Angles.
Balance distribution.
Timing windows measured in fractions of a second.
Not new techniques.
Refinements of what already existed.
Mark drew a sharp breath as his body shifted instinctively against the wall. His center of gravity adjusted—subtle, precise.
Easier.
Cleaner.
[WARNING: NEURAL STRAIN DETECTED]
A dull ache bloomed behind his eyes.
"You're burning me out," Mark growled.
No denial.
Only another line.
[HOST COMPATIBILITY: INSUFFICIENT]
[CURRENT STATE: TEMPORARY STABILITY]
Temporary.
That word stuck.
Mark pushed himself upright, using the wall for balance. His legs shook—but held. The heat in his chest dimmed, retreating to a low, constant pressure.
Like a reactor idling too hot.
He moved again, blending into the lower district's foot traffic. No one looked twice. A bloodied man with hollow eyes didn't stand out down here.
That was the problem.
Mark slipped into a derelict maintenance corridor and dragged the rusted door shut behind him. Darkness swallowed the space, broken only by flickering emergency lights.
He leaned back and closed his eyes.
Silence.
Then—
[EVALUATION SUMMARY]
[— Combat survivability: CONFIRMED]
[— System-host synchronization: FAIL]
[— Adaptive potential: PRESENT]
His jaw tightened.
"So I'm still broken."
[CORRECTION: HOST STATUS — INCOMPLETE]
Mark opened his eyes.
"That's not better."
[INCOMPLETE DOES NOT EQUAL TERMINATED]
The words lingered.
Incomplete.
Not rejected.
Not yet.
Cold lights flashed through his memory. Restraints. Voices arguing over charts and percentages. Someone saying, "Not worth the cost." Someone else approving the disposal order.
They hadn't seen potential.
Only inefficiency.
Mark exhaled slowly and pushed off the wall.
"Fine," he said. "Then we're both unfinished."
No reply.
But when he took a step forward, his foot placement corrected itself—barely noticeable. His balance held without effort.
No surge of power.
No sudden strength.
Just less waste.
Mark paused.
Tried again.
The same result.
A faint smile tugged at his lips—for the first time since the alley.
Outside, the city waited. Hostile. Indifferent. Alive.
And somewhere within it, the people who wanted him erased were still moving.
[NEXT PHASE: CONDITIONAL MONITORING]
[TRIGGER REQUIREMENTS: UNMET]
Mark stepped back into the street.
"Guess I'll give you something to watch," he said.
The system stayed silent.
But this time—
It didn't disagree.
End of Chapter 3